


Disassembled Reflections

by Beginning_Returner



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: All that holds you back is the reawakening, M/M, MORE GERMANBRO FEELINGS, Much gayness, Of what transpired so long ago, One step forward and you're falling again, Out of memory and into fear, also contains, and nature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 04:03:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14992337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beginning_Returner/pseuds/Beginning_Returner
Summary: In which Ludwig gets a new vehicle, and Alfred likes parking in cars with boys. A day out in the countryside for both of them ends up unearthing more than either had anticipated...





	Disassembled Reflections

In the beginning, Ludwig drove a Volkswagen "Beetle". It was unobtrusive, small, cheap, and easy to maintain, making it ideal for a public servant who didn't want to attract attention in his daily life. 

But in 1964, Porche had decided to shoot a promotional reel in cooperation with him and the government. They'd show him touring the factory, how they were rebuilding the technical competency as well as the wealth of the nation, that sort of thing. 

What they hadn't told him is that at the end, they'd be presenting Ludwig with a brand new Model 911. Terribly surprised and taken aback, he'd nonetheless accepted the costly gift on camera with a smile and a handshake to the current CEO and the Minister for the Interior. 

Expensive cars had to be properly taken care of. After Lutz brought the vehicle home, he'd built a two-door garage next to the property he currently occupied. He had learned how to frame a house in construction jobs right after the war, and didn't consider that aspect of things particularly trying. The difficult part was spending more of his hard-earned money on insurance for a fast-and-fancy vehicle. 

Despite all the care he took with it, Ludwig had been at a loss what to do with the car initially, and it sat unused in its parking bay for quite some time. When Felix visited it was generally at the helm of his own Lancia Flavia, and Lutz was otherwise far too busy for leisure driving. 

Then, Alfred came over. 

It was a peaceful May morning. Ludwig was washing his breakfast things and looking forward to a quiet weekend when the doorbell rang, and there on the stoop he stood, simply attired in jeans and a t-shirt. 

_Well, there goes my peaceful Saturday, and probably Sunday too,_ Ludwig reflected, and sighed inwardly. 

With eyes that put James Dean's to shame, Alfred looked him up and down. 

"You're not wearing a tie today. I like that." He reached out to cup Lutz's waist. "But we really need to get you out of those pants and into a pair of jeans." 

"Stop talking on the front doorstep and come in already," replied Ludwig brushing his hand from his pleated beige trousers. "The curtain-twitchers will be watching and I don't want to give them any reason to talk." 

Alfred turned around, grinned impishly, and blatantly made as if to adjust the collar of Ludwig's blue polo shirt. Lutz ignored the gesture and headed back inside, not waiting to see if Alfred would come in with him. 

Because he knew he would. 

Alfred immediately found the living room and sprawled on the couch in perfect satisfaction. He contemplated the decor with restless interest. 

A low table, a china cabinet, a liquor cabinet, yellow-striped wallpaper on which hung a few prints of flowers and landscapes. Neat and polite. 

Ludwig finished putting away the dishes, then looked in from the dining room to where Alfred sat. "I'll get you a beer." 

"Oh hey, thanks." 

Opening his refrigerator, Ludwig chose the bottle closest to the back. (Like most Germans, he preferred his beer cellar-cooled, but hadn't had the means to commission workers to dig a basement for his current home.) Having belatedly remembered _not_ to pour the contents into a glass, he returned to the living room and handed the opened bottle to Alfred before demurely seating himself to his right. 

"Nice place you've got here. Looks like you're doing OK." 

"I'm happy you think so," said Ludwig, knowing his house was lower middle class at best by American standards. 

"Hey, I saw the latest newsreel you were in. That's quite a nice car they gave you there." 

"Dear God, I didn't even know they were going to offer me--" 

"Now why don't you take me for a drive in that beautiful new machine of yours?" Alfred took a swig from the beer. 

"Are you sure?" Americans tended to prefer cabriolets with a V8 in the front, while Ludwig's car had a rear-mounted straight 6 and a solid roof. He wouldn't be interested in something so boringly German. 

Alfred leaned in, and put his hand under Ludwig's chin. "Look. If you and I were in college in America right now, and I asked you to take me for a drive, you'd understand what I meant without me having to say. Another. Word." Ludwig could feel his breath on his cheeks. 

"Now, are you going to take me for a drive, or not?" 

"All right, let me pack some sandwiches." 

 

* * *

 

The day was already quite hot when Lutz pulled up the left-hand door to his garage, and carefully backed the little sports car out. 

As he closed the door again, Alfred hopped into the passenger seat and stowed Ludwig's picnic basket behind him. 

"Where are we going, anyway?" 

"It's a surprise." 

The temperature only increased as they left the outskirts of Bonn and headed out on the Autobahn. 

"God, is it sweltering in here." 

"You'd rather have gas fumes in your face then?" Ludwig responded acerbically without taking his eyes from the road. 

"...No." 

"Didn't think so." 

As they thundered down the highway, the straight 6 of the engine howling full out, Alfred gazed contemplatively at Ludwig. 

The motor, he reflected, didn't sound like anything else in particular. It was quite unlike the roar of an airplane propeller, or the muffled hammering of a fishing boat motor. And there was certainly nothing of the guttural churn of the cars back home in this engine. It was, quite simply- its own beast. His thoughts turned to the individual driving the car, and it occurred to him that in some ways, man and machine were no different. You simply couldn't compare Ludwig to Father, or Francis, or Antonio. No, not even to himself, despite their similarity in age. Ludwig was pale, and he was brown. He'd won, and Ludwig had lost. 

The Porche wasn't airtight, and as Lutz concentrated on shifting gears, a stray wisp of hair had escaped from his coiffure and was now drifting around his forehead. The sight of that strand teased at Alfred's loins as it floated in the breeze. He wanted to run his hands through Ludwig's perfect mane, disarraying its symmetry, to bury that rosy mouth between his lips, to touch the flaxen crest between his thighs, excite him in all his secret crevices, to kiss his pale neck as it arched in ecstasy. 

Ludwig felt Alfred's ardour burning like a bonfire beside him. He did his best to ignore it, tried not to dwell too much on Alfred's powerful limbs, brown and knotted like a young oak tree. To not think of those incredible plump lips, sucking eagerly on his mouth, sometimes even on his-- 

\--Really now. He needed to focus on the road. 

But it was the weekend, and inevitably, the highway grew congested. As he inched along in second gear, Ludwig hoped this trip would be worth its while. He'd deliberately chosen a location that he thought might appeal to his outdoorsy lover, but was still unsure if it would live up to his high expectations. 

Alfred had taken Lutz to America once already, so he knew Alfred's lust intimately, knew it smelled alternately like a bedroll on the hard ground and crisp hotel sheets. Knew it could feel like hard bricks behind his back in New York City, sand in California, or the whispering tall grass of Kansas. Alfred had fucked Ludwig in every conceivable location of his great country, and Lutz was left wondering if he could ever measure up. 

But there was no time for worrying-- his little car had finally made it to the junction with another highway. Ludwig turned into it and headed due East, soon reaching another, far smaller intersection with a regional road, lined with peaceful farmers' fields. 

The drive grew more pleasant from then on, and both he and Alfred rolled their windows down in appreciation of the fresh country air. 

Once, their car had to stop due to a herd of cows being driven across the road, producing a less appetizing smell. But Alfred left his window open, being used to the scent of livestock, and Ludwig did likewise, not wanting the smell of cattle to stay trapped on his side of the car. 

Ludwig seemed to know exactly where he was going, so Alfred didn't question him as they bent off into a lane leading to a small village, then finally another path that ended at a locked farm gate. Lutz stopped the car, got out, fished a keyring from his pocket and unlocked the portal. 

"This your place?" asked Alfred as he got back into the car. 

"Yes. All the owners died in the war or moved away afterwards. I met the widow and daughter of the former owner one day in a cafe, and decided to buy the land from her myself." 

Once he'd driven past the gate, Ludwig got out and closed it behind him again. 

Back in the drivers' seat, he stared reflectively out the window at the rustling grasses that lay under the trees lining the path. 

"It wasn't much, but I hope my money helped that family to get back on its feet." 

Then he turned the key in the ignition and drove on until they reached the farm buildings, where he carefully parked the car inside the old garage. 

"Come on. We're walking from here." 

"Aw. No scenic outlooks with possibilities for backseat action?" 

"...Alfred. This car is a small, narrow hardtop, and have you even considered our height? We're far too tall, there's no way we'd both fit back there comfortably. Besides, these leather seats are brand new and I refuse to ruin them." 

"Car parking" with Alfred in Washington State certainly held its own in his memories as some of the finest sex he'd ever had, but he was not interested in ruining his memories by giving himself a concussion against the sidewalls of his own far more diminutive vehicle. 

"Aw, you're no fun." Alfred opened his door and headed out. 

"Hey, don't forget the picnic basket." 

"You can carry that." 

" _I_ made it, so as far as I'm concerned, it's only fair that _you_ carry it." 

"Fine, fine..." 

Alfred grabbed the large container and headed out as Ludwig ensured both front windows were properly closed prior to locking the doors of the Porche. 

Together, they walked away from the outbuildings and into the quiet of the untouched fields. 

Small rustlings were all about them as they crunched through the long grass. At one point, a hamster raced by right in front of Ludwig's feet. He saw the rodent was fat and healthy, and smiled as it disappeared into the underbrush. 

"I've been thinking- one day, when I have more capital, I might turn parts of this property into a biodynamic farm. But some areas, I think I'll just leave wild." 

Ludwig's gaze grew distant as he remembered what his brother had told him, oh so long ago. 

_"By the time you were born, almost all the wolves and bears in Germany were already dead. You don't even understand what a wilderness used to look like. That's why I'm taking you on tour to my Eastern territories so you can see and feel."_

After many agonizing hours by rail, by coach and finally to horse, the brothers stood on top of a burial mound and surveyed the mixed forest below. 

Gilbert had reached out and squeezed his hand. 

_"Now close your eyes, listen and feel."_

And Ludwig had done as he was told, reached out and touched-- not human souls, but those of countless animals. A raven that sat high in a tree nearby, watching the strange folk below. A wolf pack stalking deer, and all the hares and mice and frogs and bees you could imagine, a bear bumbling about in search of food, even a gigantic elk happily eating lake weeds. 

He'd simply stood there and cried then. Cried for all the animals he'd never known, and the stupidity of those who'd killed them. 

Though extensive, the forest and large expanse of untended fields Ludwig had purchased from the widow were unlikely to serve as sufficient habitats for any of the animals he'd felt that day. But still-- 

Ludwig saw a field mouse run up a stalk of grass to chew at its end, and smiled. 

Some small animals, he might yet be able to shelter. 

 

* * *

 

They carefully walked along the narrow path through the fields, Ludwig leading the way. 

In the distance, a massive oak tree sat enthroned in the middle of one pasture, and it was towards this landmark that he directed Alfred. 

When they finally reached their goal, the American immediately plunked down both heavy basket and himself, leaving Lutz to take blankets out of the container and spread them under the encompassing shade of the foliage. 

He took off his socks and shoes and sat down on the covers, patting the spot next to him. "Come, sit with me a moment." 

And Alfred complied, though Lutz had to remind him to remove his footwear. As they sat there under the rustling leaves and contemplated the silence, he quietly reached out and slipped his hand into Alfred's. 

"Close your eyes, I want to show you something." 

Alfred laughed. "Now there's a contradictory turn of phrase." 

But he thought he knew what would happen next, and so he went along with his lover's wishes. 

Ludwig concentrated, his own eyelids fluttering shut, willing the tiny souls that inhabited this silent landscape to enter Alfred through his hand, letting him feel all the wild hamsters and mice and rabbits and hares and squirrels in the tree above, and a fox family in its den close to the creek, and above them the owl and raven, and all the creatures great and small in this little enclave. 

Alfred grinned. "This really is a nice place." He opened his eyes. "Would be even better with a couple of wolves, like in Yellowstone." 

"I'm sorry I can't offer you that at the moment." 

"No mind. I'm of a wolfish disposition myself right now, so that'll have to do." 

Lutz stared at him quizzically. 

"Oh you know. You're looking so good I might just eat you right up." 

His companion visibly recoiled. 

"God. Why must you be so literally minded? I didn't mean like that. I meant like this--" Alfred leaned over and slowly kissed Ludwig, savouring the feel of their sunripe skin. 

"I'm sorry," said Lutz when he paused to draw breath. "I was scared of the wolf when Gilbert read stories to me at bedtime." His brother had been very good at doing voices for stories too, which had only increased his juvenile terror. 

Alfred paused, smacked his lips quizzically. "You're lucky to have someone who read you stories from anything but the hair-raising sections of the Bible. Also, are you wearing sunscreen?" 

"Are you kidding me? Of course I am. Have _you_ forgotten that I'm blonde? I'd turn lobster-red out there otherwise. Of course, that's half as bad as what would happen to my brother, but still." 

He smiled as he remembered how Gilbert would always slather his face with zinc ointment, especially on parade days, how he'd come home swearing a blue streak one day when he'd forgotten to completely cover his neck with the cream, immediately racing into his study and searching for calendula salve in his medicine cabinet to spread on the burn. "Calendula! Where's the damn shit ointment!" He could still hear him screaming. Meanwhile he'd quietly gotten out a step stool and fetched the pot himself. When Gilbert had paused for breath, he'd simply said: "By your command Sir, here's the salve," and held out the jar. In return, he'd gotten a kiss on the forehead and mussed hair, not to mention the privilege of smearing the cream on the afflicted spot while a shirtless Gilbert put his head down over his writing desk, bit his lip and tried not to howl too loudly. 

Alfred was staring strangely at him. He opened his mouth as though to say something, but closed it again and quickly decided he preferred kissing Ludwig to speaking at the moment. 

As always, the speed at which he worked astonished Lutz. In an eye-blink he was straddling Ludwig's hips, grinding stiff jeans against ironed fabric as he pulled off his t-shirt and Lutz's polo, fingers kneading his nipples. 

Alfred had to marvel at how sensitive and womanish Ludwig was, how he moaned as he caressed those pink circles on his chest. Once, when he was still reshaping Lutz's soul, his nation, he would have thought this a sign of weakness, of his fear to change, to submit to him and have his culture hollowed out and remade. 

But now he had grown to better understand the man-more-than-a-man that lay beneath him, knew he was just secretly sensitive, a sentiment he'd tried to drown while performing what he saw as his duty to his nation. He'd seen it in how Ludwig cared for the plants in the window boxes of his old apartment, how he petted every dog and cat that passed him by. 

Yes, calling him womanish would be rather inaccurate, for not all women were inclined to cry out and moan when he sucked their nipples either. 

Alfred felt for both their belts, undid first Ludwig's fly and then his own. Briefly, he stood up under the shade of the tree to free himself of his jeans, and Lutz lay there in awe of his immensity. Then Alfred reached down and gently helped him out of his own trousers. He covered Ludwig's hips with his, face to face, moaning as he slid against him, again and again. Ludwig clutched his crisp buttocks, holding on for dear life. Alfred thrust upward and kissed him fiercely, felt the heat of Ludwig's tip against his stomach as Lutz's lips teased against his. 

Ludwig closed his eyes and abandoned himself to the feeling of Alfred's cock sliding between his thighs, slipping and jostling against his own. Red-hot yet perfectly at peace, he contemplated his lovers' progress. 

Alfred reached down and played with him softly. 

"Have I ever told you what an amazing cock you have? Makes the trip across the pond worth it, every time." 

He ran the ball of his thumb along the shaft until Ludwig moaned in answer. "Freddie, please--" 

Yes, this is what Alfred loved, the delicate soul that lay under Lutz's disciplined outer layers. Most of all Alfred loved to provoke it, loved to hear those wanton cries from his mouth, loved to gasp and strain over him, to smell the musty lees of their passion, to feel Ludwig tense under him and spray hot fiery lava on his belly as he ground and panted and spilled his foamy ecstasy onto Ludwig. 

He collapsed onto his back next to Lutz and both lay there breathing hard for a while. A grey squirrel fearfully looked down at them from the tree for a moment.  >Danger?< Ludwig heard it think. >No. Mating. Safe. Go.< he thought back at it. Content with the answer, it skittered away into the fields. 

Alfred reached over and took him into his arms, savouring the lovely glow of their flesh. A breeze passed by, but otherwise the silence was absolute. For a moment, both fell asleep, soft and replete. 

Ludwig was first to rouse again, as he always did. 

Quietly, he raised himself and contemplated the man beneath him, saw the eloquent curves of collarbone and neck muscles, the smooth expanse of his stomach, the eloquent crop of dark blonde hair between breast and thigh. His eyelashes, pale on his dark skin, and those full lips that could smirk so cruelly when he pushed his will through, when he saw it done. They were soft now, replete and content, almost innocent in their expression. 

Lutz frequently found it hard to believe that the Alfred he knew now was once the callow virgin Gilbert had taken to his bed out of pity for his innocence. 

But here, under the expansive shade of the tree, he saw the hard commander's inner purity, saw the truth of his brother's words for the first time. 

Alfred stirred, reached up and caressed Ludwig's face. He smiled. 

"I'm gonna let you fuck me now, because I'm tired, but I want to feel your prick some more." 

A rare privilege. Ludwig was not about to waste it. After both had taken a quick piss at the edge of the field, he immediately extracted two cloths, one to wipe himself and the other for Alfred to do the same. Alfred muttered something about neat freaks but did as told, scrunching the cloth into a ball while Lutz was busy applying cold cream to himself. 

Turning around when he was ready, Ludwig saw Alfred had steadied himself against the tree. He frowned. 

"If you grip the trunk hard enough to strip its bark, that centenarian oak is going to die." 

"Oh, get on with it already and stop complaining." 

"No." Lutz crawled around and looked him in the face. "Have you ever been sunburnt?" 

Boy had he ever. Even his complexion had been no match for the South Seas, not to mention Cuba. 

"Do you remember what it felt like to have your skin peel off?" 

"...Yes." 

"Then leave that poor tree alone." 

"What the hell am I supposed to hold onto then? If I rip up the grass you'll say I'm exposing the tree roots. Can't win, can I?" 

This gave Ludwig pause for a moment. Then he brightened. "Come on, get up. The shadow's moved anyway by now, so if we go over to this side--" He began busily packing the basket with discarded clothes and would easily have dragged the blanket over with Alfred still on it if he hadn't moved. Ludwig was practically gambolling as he went, giving Alfred a very nice view of his buttocks and certain other parts flapping in the wind. The insouciant European approach to nudity still astounded Alfred, who knew that despite what his brain might be thinking, Ludwig had no intention of seducing him in that moment. As always, the German was far too busy organizing. 

Further over to the right side of the tree, there was a thick, sturdy weather worn stake thrust into the ground. Ludwig contemplated it happily. "I think the farmers used to tether their horses here." 

"Well, that'll do then." 

So it was to that pole Alfred clung as Ludwig readied himself. 

Distracted, Alfred stared down at some ants in the grass. He was on the verge of turning and asking if Lutz was just about ready, when he was filled with sudden sensation, and Ludwig was inside him. 

As always, Lutz was very quiet when he took the initiative. The sheer weight of his presence inside Alfred could have easily overwhelmed him, but he deliberately took the opposite path, his thrusts rhythmic and careful. 

Somehow, that just made Alfred go hard even faster than was normally the case. 

Lutz reached out with one hand and palmed his erection, stroking as he thrust once more. 

Alfred was filled by him, surrounded by him, as Ludwig loved him both inside and out. The warmth of Lutz's dual friction suffused him entirely. 

In and out, out and in. Just like the pistons on that Porche of his, discrete, efficient, and absolutely breathtaking. 

Alfred's thighs trembled as Lutz brought him closer to the edge. Ludwig stopped briefly and caressed his back with his other hand, slowly, delicately. 

Alfred shook with ecstasy from Ludwig's cock gliding into him and his hand rubbing against him, gasped as Ludwig thrust once more and filled him with sudden, beautiful warmth, with content farmers and their wives, with teachers at private schools with their hands up each others skirts in the art closet, with bakers taking quick breaks between each others thighs in lazy afternoons. 

The heat of his own cock inside Lutz's palm increasing in answer, Ludwig's touch, Ludwig's thumb against his foreskin, filled his world, was all his world, his release drenching Ludwig's hand, soaking the blanket below, giving Ludwig the many loves of his people, with college girls pressed close against each other, with woodsmen who never saw the need to bother with women, with a couple happily leaving their children with grandma so they could visit have a weeks' trip to that scenic location and nice hotel recommended in the Green Book. 

Then the world came rushing in again and both were panting and clinging to each other, sticky and replete. 

 

* * *

 

Ludwig fiercely clutched Alfred's belly and prick as he waited for his breath to slow, but otherwise did not move, remained gloriously inside him until both their legs gave out and they collapsed on the blanket. Eventually, Ludwig got up and fetched more cloths for wiping. Alfred lay back with the rag between his legs and stared at the foliage above him in contentment. A deeper shadow than the leaves could cast fell over him, and he saw Ludwig had straddled him. He gently took the cloth from Alfred's fingers, and carefully wiped him clean. "Now go and pee again while I arrange things. There's still time to contemplate after you've done that." 

While Alfred wandered off to the edge of the field, Ludwig disposed of all used rags in a small bag, folded the soiled blanket and pulled out a spare from the basket. Then he stood by the tree and waited for Alfred to return. As his lover reentered the shade of the oak, he set out to relieve himself in turn, and Alfred couldn't resist planting a slap on his ass as he went. 

Unexpectedly, Ludwig turned and seized Alfred by the shoulders, kissing him deeply, revelling in the feel of his lips. 

When his mouth was no longer occupied, Alfred smiled. "I'd love to commission a painting of us the way we're standing now. You know, drawn by that guy Tom from those magazines I get you." 

Ludwig blushed as he remembered the American publications, filled with paintings of sleek men with no shirts, touching each other. Suddenly embarrassed, he turned and quickly walked off. But Alfred strode after him and clapped an arm around his shoulder. "I could go for another piss too, buddy." 

After much jostling and crossing of streams and more jocular butt-slapping contests and nipple pinching, the two settled back down on the blanket for a meal of sandwiches and boiled eggs packed by Ludwig. 

The first bread Ludwig passed to Alfred was dark. Much darker than anything served as an aperitif sandwich in America, certainly. 

Alfred stared at the Emmentaler and ham sandwich with butter quizzically. 

"It's rye bread," said Ludwig, guessing the reason for his expression. "There've been plenty of German immigrants to your country in the last century or two, so don't tell me you've never eaten it before." 

"Of course not. I'm just not...used to it anymore." 

"Then the elite of Washington doesn't know what's good for it. Eat up, it'll make you strong." 

"Like I need more strength," said Alfred biting into the sandwich. 

"You were quite winded back there, I'd say you do." 

"Shut up," muttered Alfred between his mouthful. It'd been a while since he'd been the catcher rather than the pitcher, and he felt inexplicably embarrassed by his exhaustion. 

Once Alfred had finished his bread, Ludwig passed him a watercress sandwich on pale buttered rye next. 

"What's this?" 

"I can't afford to let you eat all my ham and cheese, Alfred. Eat up, it's good, and I'll have more growing in my window box in a few days." 

Still grumbling, Alfred bit down into the bread and started at the fierce herbaceous scent that filled his mouth. He had no problem finishing that sandwich. 

Having polished off the rest of the sandwiches and boiled eggs Ludwig had brought, they lay naked on the blanket, drowsing together until the shadow of the tree grew long. 

Then Ludwig sat up and quietly unpacked their clothes. 

Alfred was loath to put them on, but his lover forced the issue by threatening to pull the blanket from under him as he methodically re-packed the picnic basket. 

The drive home was quiet aside from the usual traffic jam once they got onto the highway. 

Once the car was safely stowed at his house, Ludwig fished out another beer to give to Alfred. "I'm guessing you want to stay here tonight." 

"I do indeed." 

"Just let me get things ready upstairs then. I'll be right with you." 

Ludwig headed first for his bathroom to arrange more towels and the toothbrush Alfred liked to use when he was here. As he entered his bedroom in search of spare pyjamas, he found Freddie had already entered it. 

Still holding his beer, he was bending over a framed photo on Lutz's nightstand. 

_Shit._

He'd wanted to put that picture away before Alfred saw it. It was a reproduction of a daguerreotype that showed a tall officer holding a chubby blond boy in a suit on his knees. 

The original had recently been rediscovered in the Prussian Privy State Archives, and an archivist had quietly offered him a copy at a party. 

"Funny thing, you still keeping around old family pictures like that," said Alfred turning around. "I donated all the portraits of me and Dad to the Smithsonian a _long_ time ago." 

"Please don't compare your fractious relations to your former guardian with mine," Ludwig replied hesitantly. 

"Ludwig. How many times do I have to tell you? You shouldn't cling to the past like this. He's the one who led you along the path to destruction. He's a hollow phantom you never should have worshipped in the first place." 

" _I_ led _myself_ on that path, Alfred. I was the one who corrupted and debased every single fucking thing he held dear, right down to the man he loved best." 

"Stop blaming yourself for the sins of the parent." 

Ludwig's nostrils flared. This alone he could not stand. He stepped forward and seized Alfred by the collar of his t-shirt. "It's called taking fucking responsibility, Alfred. But you wouldn't know about that, would you, not from the way you treat your own fucking people who are just trying to have a better life for themselves." 

In his mind, he knew Gilbert blamed himself for the war just as he did. But he could never bring himself to have his brother shoulder all the blame. Not when so much of that shit had started in Bavaria, a land his brother hated. Not to mention Austria... 

"Christ, Ludwig, the thing with my people-- that's something different." 

"Different how? I've read about lynchings. How is that different? How is that ANY BIT DIFFERENT?" 

He was pushing against him now, propelling him towards the wallpaper. 

"Ludwig, you really need to get over him. He's the _enemy_ now." 

"ALFRED." Lutz summoned all his strength, shoved Alfred against the wall and his face into Alfred's. 

"I can't." 

His breath was hot on Alfred's cheeks. 

"Because he's the only fucking brother I've ever had." 

Then suddenly everything in front of his eyes was gone. The wall was gone. Alfred was gone. 

There was static, static in his ears, static filling his mouth with buzzing fur, static that resolved into a voice, slowly, like a tape recording coming up to speed. 

"S-S- 

S-S- 

S-S- 

S-S-So many that swear fealty to me, so many allies. Yet none I can truly call brother or sister. Strange, is it not, Felix?" 

Feliciano was sitting on a windowsill across from he-who-was-not-him, his youthful self dressed impeccably in a red overgown trimmed with marten fur and dark green doublet with tiny golden winged lions woven into the fabric. He smirked. "Of all the things to be jealous of me for, you pick siblings? I daresay you'd change your mind right quickly had you one." 

Karl's sweet countenance of sixteen summers smiled back at him. "But you love your brother nonetheless, and always forgive him, do you not? Always easy come, easy go, after the Italian fashion." He sighed. "Had I a brother, I would spoil him recklessly, thereby ensuring he'd not be half so rebellious." 

Felix frowned. "Why are you even complaining about this to me? You have Roederich, who is closer to you than my brother has ever been." 

"Roederich? No, Roederich is more of a half-twin to me than a brother. We know each others' mind too easily, and our companionship has nothing of the boyish ease true brothers have. It is not the same thing at all." 

"I see." 

Karl sighed, then smiled again, brushing fair pageboy-cut hair from his face. "I quite hope it takes us a while to trounce the French. I would fain spend more time in your company." 

"Then what am I to you?" said Felix. 

"Very amusing, for one thing." Karl edged closer on the sill. 

_Stop._

"And most pleasant to know." he raised Feliciano's chin with his fingers and kissed him softly. Felix returned the favour, taking pleasure in the feel of his lips. 

_STOP._

Ludwig's essence shattered into a million bubbling fragments as he struggled, sought desperately to escape the vision. He didn't want to know this. He didn't want to know the true reason behind those moments when Felix had stared strangely at him. 

_I'm warning you now._

Not his voice this time but the voice of his brother, speaking through the pages of a letter squirrelled away in a cache, a cache he'd unearthed after the war was over, just as his Gilbert had told him to. A cache that contained a missive that told him his body was not his originally, but that of the Holy Roman Empire. Of Karl. 

_I consulted long and hard with Kiku about this. He has ancient books in his country, that tell of similar cases to yours. He told me there might be backlash from the memories held in your body. And when that happens, you might "remember" things that you never wanted to know._

_If you are reading this letter, it means I'm no longer there to help you when it happens. But you're strong, and I believe you can overcome. It won't be easy, but I know you can do it. Go now. Do whatever it takes to redeem your sin. Be better than I ever was._

_Your Gisel._

 

* * *

 

At first, Alfred didn't know what to do when Ludwig's eyes rolled back in his head and he started shaking. Then he realized what was happening, bodily picked him up, dragged him over to his bed and laid him on it. 

He'd had a friend, in the First World War. Also named Alfred, funnily enough. Afflicted with what he called the falling-down disease, but otherwise, a stalwart man. Had faked his papers just he could go to that shithole of a war. So Alfred had always helped him and been with him when he fell, and he stayed with Ludwig just as he had with him, rolled him on his side once the tremors passed. 

Still, Ludwig did not move. 

"Fuck." 

As if it would help, he lay down facing Ludwig and hugged him close, pulled up his shirt and kissed him on his solar plexus. Held him for what seemed like an interminably long time, but was probably only a minute going by the ticking of the alarm on the sideboard. 

There was no response from Ludwig. 

"FUCK!" 

Germany was already going through enough shit without a brain-dead Incarnation. Alfred cried from sheer frustration and powerlessness, hugging Ludwig's unmoving body. "I love you," he whispered through tears. 

Was that a slight motion in Ludwig's facial muscles, or was he deceiving himself? 

He hugged him again, harder than before, burying his wet cheeks into Ludwig's chest. "And I'm pretty sure your Gilbert still loves you too, okay!?" 

_Your Gisel._

"Stop squirming on my lap, Lutz. You must sit absolutely still and promise me not to blink at all, otherwise the photographer must begin again." 

"And _then_ can we go to the picture gallery?" 

"Yes, of course. You can look at all your favourites. Including Saint Sebastian. Shh. No. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. That's why I'm whispering in your ear. It'll be our secret. Now look at the camera, and don't move, so we can get this over with quickly." 

The flash fires and the moment is gone, frozen for all eternity inside the frame of a picture propped up on his bedside table. 

He's lying on the bed, looking directly at the photo. There's a strange weight on his chest. 

"You know what?" came Alfred's muffled voice from his breasts. 

"I just realized I still don't understand you at all. But I think I'd like to try." 

He looked up, eyes filled with desperate tears. 

"Because I love you, and not just for your cock, okay??" 

A rare smile crossed Ludwig's face then, and he reached out and hugged Alfred's quickly reddening face to his breast. 

They lay still there for quite a while, Alfred and Ludwig and the photo on the table. 

Then Alfred reached out and gently began pulling Ludwig's shirt the rest of the way off his body. 

"I thought you loved me for more than my--" 

"Just shut up for a sec, alright? I'm trying to get your mind off sad things." 

"If nuclear war begins, Gilbert and I will be the first to burn, Alfred. You don't have to live with the awareness of that fact every day of your life." 

Alfred looked up and said the words Ludwig had least expected to hear, right after "I love you". 

"What do you want then?" 

"I...I would like you to hold me and not do anything else, for a while." 

"Right. Spooning ok with you?" 

"Yes. Thank you." 

So Alfred crawled in behind Ludwig, hugged him close from behind, snuffled once into his ear, and closed his eyes. 

But Ludwig's remained open as he contemplated the photo on the sideboard a while longer. 

It was dated to the year before the nationalist uprising began in 1848, before the rapid-fire series of events that had been so traumatic for Ludwig, body and soul. 

The pain had been so intense, he'd broken one of the house rules and come into Gilbert's study unannounced. 

"It hurts, Gilbert. I can feel the people screaming. why does it hurt so much?" 

He still remembered how Gilbert had madly dashed from his desk to embrace him. How he'd whispered in his ear that this was an Incarnation's greatest burden. How sorry he was that he could not protect him from the pain. 

Giving a child like him Laudanum or Morphine would have been highly unwise. So by exceptional permission, Gilbert let Lutz sleep with him in his bed until the troubles ended in 1849. Unknowingly, his young self must have posed quite an obstacle to Gilbert's love life, but his brother had neither complained nor chided him. 

Sometimes they'd even ended up in the same position as he lay with Alfred now, spooning, as he called it. But that had been different, had felt different. 

Then, his brother's warmth, his hand wrapped round his small chest, had kept him safe from the conflagration in his mind so he could safely fall asleep. 

But now, even Alfred's arm around him could not protect him from armageddon, if it came. 

And of course, they were two grown men lying together in one bed, and against his body he could feel Alfred's-- 

Ludwig shifted a little, half drowsily wondering if Alfred would insist on another romp after all. The industrial might that seared his veins gave that boy far too much energy. 

But Alfred's breathing eventually slowed, his embrace loosening unconsciously, and gradually, Ludwig dropped into sleep as well. 

They lay like this, together through the sweltering night. 

Before dawn, Alfred awoke and whispered his raw need into Ludwig's ear to waken him. 

But this time, even deep inside him, Alfred was softer, gentler, somehow. 

Eventually, morning came, and so did Alfred. Ludwig expected his lover to roll off him and head straight for the shower as usual, but instead-- 

He rolled Ludwig over instead, finished what he'd begun with those incredibly powerful lips of his, happily contemplated Lutz's satiated smile. 

And Ludwig thought he would like to entertain, even if only for a moment, the idea that things were changing between them. 

 

* * *

 

Alfred left on Sunday evening, but when Ludwig went to back the Volkswagen out of the garage the following Monday, he found a stack of magazines on his front porch, all depicting men in even _more_ salacious attitudes than the ones he'd gotten from Alfred previously. 

Still flushed from the gratifying minutes he'd spent with the contents upstairs in his bedroom, he suddenly noticed a paper tucked inside the number he'd just been perusing. 

_Things are loosening up a bit here lately, as you can tell from these magazines. And with any luck the higher-ups here'll have to legalize more important things than just periodicals for cock-lovers. You gave me hell back there and you know what? You're right. I just have to try harder. No pun intended. OK, maybe a little. See you next time!_

Ludwig sighed as he put the paper down. That man was incorrigible. But thankfully, not unchanging, it seemed. 

He cleaned himself and got ready for work. 

Next time, he just might take his boyfriend to a nudist beach. 

**Author's Note:**

> My blog [is right here](https://modoru-mono.tumblr.com/). I mostly post history and archaeology with a smattering of good Hetalia. Feel free to give me a yell on ask or messenger over there if you enjoyed the fic!
> 
> **Parking in cars with boys:** A reference to [this old educational reel](https://archive.org/details/AreYouPo1947). 
> 
> **Porsche 911:** [Here's a pic](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Stuttgart_Jul_2012_20_\(Porsche_Museum_-_1964_Porsche_911_2.0_Coupe\).JPG) of the first model to be produced. 
> 
> **Lancia Flavia:** Feliciano would presumably have one of the fancier sporty models like the one seen [here](https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Lancia_Flavia_Sport_Zagato.jpg). 
> 
> **Motor...didn't sound like anything else in particular...guttural churn of the cars back home":** For your convenience, [a video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvnJr82oULk) with the engine sound of an early 911, and that of a [Ford Thunderbird](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bf4OurTKVfQ) for comparison. 
> 
> **Hamster:** A native wild species in the cultivated fields of Europe. [Modern monocultures have almost completely wiped them out](https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/why-hamsters-cannabalizing-their-young-180968071/). 
> 
> **Elk:** [What the Europeans call an elk, North Americans call moose.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moose)
> 
> **Biodynamic farm:** The modern concept of organic farming is quite a bit older than some might think, [and was already being developed in Germany prior to WWII](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Organic_farming#History). 
> 
> **That guy Tom:** See [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_of_Finland). 
> 
> **The man he loved best:** Oh boy. The way the Nazis misused Frederick's image for propaganda is a VERY sore point with the present author. The way they distorted and misused his beautiful writings and further erased his gayness remains one of the many, MANY reasons why this author FUCKING HATES NAZIS. 
> 
> **Half-twin:** _Halbzwilling_ , technically a [German term](https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zwillinge#Formen_zweieiiger_Zwillinge) for children born of two different eggs, each fertilized by a different man. So Karl is using the expression as an allegory for them both being under Habsburg hegemony from the Renaissance onward, and yet not the same. 
> 
> **To trounce the French:** In 1494, the king of France decided to invade Italy. Early in 1495, to put a stop to his shenanigans, Venice, various other North Italian principalities, the Holy Roman Empire, and Spain formed what they called the [Holy League](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Italian_War_of_1494%E2%80%9398#League_of_Venice). Thus, Venice and the Holy Roman Empire unexpectedly found themselves truly fighting for the same cause for the first time. 
> 
> **Including Saint Sebastian:** In the 1820s, the [painting gallery at Berlin](https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Datei:Berlin_Altes_Museum_Friedrich_Thiele_1830.jpg) [had acquired](https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gem%C3%A4ldegalerie_\(Berlin\)) _several_ St. Sebastians. Of these, Lutz preferred the one by [Botticelli](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sandro_Botticelli_-_St_Sebastian_-_WGA2706.jpg). 
> 
> **The nationalist uprising:** See [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/German_revolutions_of_1848%E2%80%9349). 
> 
> **Things are loosening up a bit here lately:** In 1962, a landmark [case](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_of_Finland#U.S._censorship_codes_%281950s%E2%80%931960s%29) won in the US ensured that magazines depicting male nudes (and evidently aimed at gay men) were no longer subject to as strict censorship. 


End file.
